Ice

the country - a black
plate of ice, sculptured by the
contours of our lives


Photo Ice Rink by Dave Amis

streets glaze with ice
tonight the earth -
a moon mirror

Winter Heat and Cold

inside dry, heavy and smothering heat
outside the cold, fresh, sharp and pure


Photos La Llama - The Flame by Luis Fabres and A very cold day by broodkast

Trees fog

dawn -
dirt grey
smudges a line of trees

Photo Light Fog by technopolitan

Winter Moon

intruder moon
a hard cold blade of light
disturbs my sleep

Photo Winter Moon by 5150fantast

dead leaves
at the front door
a gift of the wind

Climbing Snowdon

All night wind and rain
score the mountain slopes

Climbing Snowdon by Kris Thirty6Red

Quotation & Comment A Streetcar Named Desire

"They told me to take a streetcar named Desire, and then transfer to one called Cemeteries and ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields."

Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams

These words are uttered by Blanche DuBois when she first arrives at her sister Stella’s apartment called Elysian Fields in New Orleans.

It tells us she is on a journey. ‘They’ refers to the attendants at the station who give her directions.

Symbolically ‘They’ indicates Blanche is vulnerable and powerless. All the men in Blanche’s life - family and lovers - have always had power and followed their sexual desires. She too has lived like this and it has brought her to rejection and exile which is a form of death.

Here at Elysian Fields Blanche hopes to start again.

beneath the oaks
we walk a bed of dead leaves
crushed fired glass

Photo autumn leaves on grass by pkirrage

Quotation & Comment

I'm starting a new project shortly.

The idea is to take a quotation from a work of literature which may include the Bible. It will probably be from a text I'm studying with my students or a text I've taught in the past. I might take quotations from the Conjured Sunlight blog. It will be a line or a phrase, perhaps even a word.

Then I'll comment on the quotation.

And I hope people that visit the blog will add a comment too. Either a response to the quotation or on my comment. Everyone is free to comment.

Anyway lets see how it rolls out.

Join in

David

dawn, looking west
trees in shadow
beyond a tower block rising gold

the river
smudged by mist and drizzle
dissolves into twilight

wet leaves, limp, black
glistening
a broken mirror

beneath the trees
a corrugated mat
of rusted leaves

Photo Autumn Forest Ground by elventear

Misty Morning

mist rising
along the water line
the river’s breath

Photo Misty Morning by RWM

Canada geese

Canada geese
the summer folded away
in their wings

Photo Canada Geese by Henry McLin

the dead slowly gather
in wind swept corners
and gutters

At Antwerp Station The Sound of Music

Here is a beautiful video Katy found on the web while she was researching a sermon. It is a gift.

David


How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria - Audition Task

Julio Diaz's Story

Katy came across this story while she was researching for a sermon. It seems to have caused quite a bit of discussion on the web.

Any way here is Julio Diaz telling his story.

David

Julio Diaz's story

Orion Rising

quietly
in the growing darkness
Orion rising

carried on the wind
dead leaves
in her greying hair

under the hazel
cobnuts are raining now

I'm putting
on the shoes I took off
in July

between grey depths
of sea and sky
a white sail rides the wind

all night
under a thin skin of canvas
the tail of a hurricane

Stormy Weather

a rough sea
breaks on the beach,
a thousand
knots unravelling
in my weary head

Photo Stormy Weather by Peter Adermark

Red Deer Summer Grasses

Red deer hidden
in the brown crust
of dry grasses


Patrolling Red Stag by bbodien

5 am

across the deer park
patches of mist -
the ghosts of dawn

THE BACK ROOM

The back room is always a mess. We do not visit it and are hardly aware of its existence. But it is there, each day more and more things are thrown in. It is a very crowded and cluttered room. We stumble through it blindly in our sleep, searching, full of yearning, reaching out. It is a room full of fear and desire.

By day we barely know that it even exists. But it does. We carry it around with us where ever we go. It secretly and invisibly dominates whatever we think, whatever we say, however we act. There is always the room, hidden from view, shameful, obscene. But it is ours. It is us.

So we live our lives in the front room. That is where we invite our guests, our friends our lovers. We keep it dusted and clean. Everything is neat and tidy. Everything is on show. This is the best of us. It’s comfortable, filled with things we like. It is like a mirror reflecting our heavily made up faces.

At the church, by the alter, on our wedding day when we say “All that I am I give to you” we are offering our partner not only the front room of ourselves but also that hidden and messy back room. And when we say “I do” we are accepting our partner’s back room. We are saying I accept you – even that part of you that I don’t know, accepting even the part of you that you don’t even know exists. And we accept that we will probably never know what is in that room.

Occasionally we may stand at the door and prize it open and let a little light in. We may stare into that gloom, with fierce and bitter tears streaming down our faces - but not for too long.

It is a massive act of faith, a leap in the dark, a step across an abyss.

Suburban Summer Nights 3 am

a flickering patchwork
of shadows -
moths around the street light

Suburban Summer Nights 2 am

still now -
rows of blank houses
and defiant foxes watching

Suburban Summer Nights 1 am

humid blue night -
close together watching
Play Misty For Me

while the midnight sky
tore itself apart
with lightning -
my barefoot chidren
danced in the puddles

Two Concerts in One Week

First I saw James Taylor at the NIA in Birmingham on Sunday 5 July with two colleagues – escaping from three days of IB training at the NEC, and secondly I saw Leonard Cohen at Brooklands Mercedes Benz World in Weybridge on Saturday 11 July with a friend.

After we had booked the concert for James Taylor I checked him out on youtube – just to get a sense of the man again. I watched him in his twenties clearly uncomfortable and uneasy in front of the camera. His long 1970’s hair was a kind of shield hiding him. But the simple guitar man played beautifully.

And so fast forward 30 years or so to a rainy July evening in Birmingham and the NIA.

It seemed that everything needed was here to make a good evening, a great band, a good singer songwriter with a solid American folk pedigree.

But the evening fell flat as the songs unfolded. I think this was due to a number of problems. Firstly the location, the NIA is a vast soulless place. It was built as a sports arena, I think and it lacked atmosphere and warmth. Secondly the set was a soup of unnecessary colour and light. There were at least four things going on behind the band at any one time.

We thought he was trying to satisfy the needs of the half a dozen audiences he was trying to attract – the traditional folkies, a country audience, a young audience – the children and grandchildren of those first hippy listeners, the oldies – the grown up hippies themselves and those easy listeners who had stumbled across his latest CD.

I’m easily pleased really. I’m a simple consumer.

But the final nail in the coffin of the evening was James Taylor himself. His script that bridged the different songs was slick and polished enough. The one liners were delivered in a quiet unassuming voice. But he lacked raw exciting energy, strutting uncomfortably across the stage. At times he looked like a parody of an aging rock star from the sixties. He was a man going through his well worn performance. He could have done the concert blindfolded - a rock concert by numbers. At times I thought he was boring himself.

Leonard Cohen was different. I spotted an advert for the concert in a discarded Metro on a train back from London. Walking home I popped in to see my friend – a Leonard Cohen fan since the 1960’s. We despaired at the ticket prices; we reassured ourselves that they had sold out. We parted resigned to the fact we wouldn’t be seeing him.

But there we were on Saturday night. Two middle aged men queuing up to watch a 74 year old man hold an audience in the palm of his hands. And he did it for over two hours, with a sublime ease, as if he had been born for the part.

I knew we’d made the right decision to come as the first notes reached us. For Cohen had brought together musicians that produce a rich, tight and accomplished sound. I love the way he has fused beautifully electric and acoustic instruments.

I felt at home here with people that swapped seats with us so that I could sit next to the aisle – more leg room. At home with people that talked easily about the last time they’d been to a Cohen concert, then mentioned Nick Cave and The Boatman’s Call.

And he played everything on our wish list. I wanted to hear The Partisan - it was the absolute highlight of the concert for me – Boogie Street – where Sharon Robinson, Cohen’s co writer, sang a solo and Famous Blue Raincoat – a stunning performance. Of course he did Halleluiah but he must be pretty pissed off with that song by now.

A week earlier we had sat in the soulless National Indoor Arena, sheltering from a rainy July evening, watching an accomplished James Taylor go through his paces. But unlike that concert a week later we were outside under a grey sky that eventually rained down on us. We were captivated, totally enchanted – lost in the labyrinth of his songs and the gracious spell that Leonard Cohen cast.

Deer Shadows

at midday the deer
cluster under the shadows
of ancient oaks


Photo by r0b1

Purple Clematis

purple clematis
so dark it swallows sunlight


in the shadows
something darker
purple clematis

Photograph Purple Clematis by KTDEE

Sunset

the river writes its name in gold

the bracken
fully grown
swallows sign posts, park benches, Fallow deer

open windows -
a siren divides the night

Deadly Nightshade

in the hard glare
of the sun -
Deadly Nightshade

Photo Deadly Nightshade by lovepics11

restless humid night
in the sunken garden
a sun dial

no relief -
the office fans turn
dry sterile air

Summer Kingston Market

this early
market morning
filled with light
and fountain spray


Photograph by Paul Easton

Vapour Trail

high above
a white and silent line -
draws across the sky


Photo Vapour Trail by ILMV

the fresh wind chases
hot stagnant air
through deserted corridors

today the restless air
disturbs the trees -
ripples of distant storms

the pond retreats
sculptured by hooves
dries to a crust of mud


Photo Dry Duck Pond by DoubleGrande

an idea from The Fire Sermon by T S Eliot

the summer
river at Richmond -
discarded
beer bottles paper plates
cigarette ends....


an idea from The Waste Land by T S Eliot

summer rain -
sudden sunlight
feeds a forest of ferns

Empty Classroom

June classroom
scattered chairs, empty desks
already forgotten


Photo A Place to Sleep by Hermin

Exam Hall

no revelation
in the hard shaft of light
that falls into
the darkened exam hall
where they sit writing


Exam Hall by non-partizan

http://www.flickr.com/photos/non-partizan/2806197476/

busy flies
at the closed windows -
a rattling restless knot

Twilight Woods

darkening woods
thickens in the undergrowth
dissolves to black




Photo A Way Through the Woods

midday sun -
island shadows retreat
into dark trees

peony -
marble of pink
explodes

Nightingale Bluebell wood

all night her call
echoes through the bluebell woods -
nightingale



Photo Bluebell Woods by clumsy and uncoordinated

http://www.flickr.com/photos/38327179@N07/3525125173/

Light on the Water

spring river
a thousand wings of light
flickering

Photo Light on the Water by spodzone

http://www.flickr.com/photos/spodzone/471616984/

Songs of Spring - The Isabella Plantation

songs of spring -
redstart and white throat
redpoll and
bullfinch, wood pecker,
sparrow hawk and pintail

The Still Pond Azaleas

this dawn morning
Azaleas spill
into the still pond


Photo Richmond Park by paulafunnell

http://www.flickr.com/photos/paulafunnell/2695050677/

Richmond Park Azaleas

late May
radiant
Azaleas


Photo Richmond Park Azaleas by sibsson

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sbisson/2479454566/

layers of grey
concrete and cloud
swallow me

Heather

sprays of heather
white waves
of clotted frost

Heather

beaded heather
flowers white and purple,
a thick tapestry

Photo Isabella Plantation by KitL Kat

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kitlogan/2413370783/

this evening light
the kind, mild, smile
of the sun

after the rain -
slugs suckling in
musty darkness

On the way to Glasgow

under the great grey
weight of cloud
a ferocious green

Photo On the way to Glasgow by Angelrays

http://www.flickr.com/photos/angelrays/890739268/in/set-72157594346353713/

she buried
her wedding ring
before she left -
under the flowering
wisteria

Wisteria

flowering wisteria -
woven
into the warm sunlit wall

Photo Wisteria by Nick Atkins

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nickatkins/468191744/

Wisteria

Oxford quad
woven into the walls
wisteria

Warm Tulips

chill spring evening
we warm ourselves
over red tulips

Tulips

red tulips, open mouthed
if you listen carefully
you can hear them sing

Tulips

red tulips, today
their mouths open wide
singing ‘alleluia’

April Richmond Park

ancient oaks
infant leaves
fathomless blue

Tulips

red tulips, church yard
their cupped petals closed together -
palms in fervent prayer

Photo One of our Backyard Tulips by hz56n

http://www.flickr.com/photos/hz536n/3385271871/

April Wedding

wedding party in the rain
her bare shoulders
his protecting arm
embraces rain drops and blossoms
Champagne and confetti

Gorse

on the dunes
flowering Gorse bushes
its petals
cold and yellow tongues
on a pike of thorns

Gorse

Gorse
cold yellow flames
smothered in a bed of thorns


Gorse –
sharp dark needles
pierce the air


Photo Gorse by JeanM1

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeanm1/3150337277/

April Light

...

from puddles
blinding splinters
of the sun

...

Photo Sun Reflection

by kumquatgirl

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kumquatgirl/4813799/

Three Spring Haikus

...

outside the church
strewn with blossom
confetti


...



a glut of blossom
carried on the chill wind
into the gutters

...




this early April
northern light
so strong and clear


Photo Cherry Blossom in the Gutter by iheartpanda

http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=Cherry+Blossom+in+the+Gutter&l=3

Night Blossom 2

the plum tree
haloed in moonlight
and blossom

Night Blossom 1

white blossom
in moonlight -
a shroud for the tree

Photo CherryBlossomFracturedMoon by Mark Strozier

http://www.flickr.com/photos/r80o/437682711/in/photostream/

Spring Sunrise

sunrise catches
the tips of trees and roof tops,
a kindling light

Dawn Leaves Lichen

dawn light
a dusting of leaves and lichen -
a radiant green

Spring Equinox

dead tree

a Woodpecker knocking

at the door



Photo Green Woodpecker by Julia_at_flickr's

http://www.flickr.com/photos/julia_at_flickr/2406618894/

Magnolia Spring

the cradled flames

of magnolia blossoms

sets the trees ablaze



Photo Spring in Kew by BerylM

http://www.flickr.com/photos/berylm/424714756/

Magnolia buds

Magnolia buds

cupped in green palms -

sheltered flames




Photo Magnolia Blossoms by jpmatth

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jpmatth/2423927375/in/set-72157600135669434/

A New Leaf

on the dark branches

feathered leaves

unfold into blue




Photo A New Leaf by canonsnapper

http://www.flickr.com/photos/canonsnapper/2468122203/

Camellia Spring

suddenly
camellia blossom,
a light in the shadows

Photo Camellia Spring 2 by autan

http://www.flickr.com/photos/autanex/2336947957/

March Light

by mid day the sun
has cracked open the grey mantle of cloud
and floods our suburban chambers
with a hard molten light
disturbing our slumbering darkness

Pink Hyacinth

pink hyacinth, all frills
the scent, a sharp and stinging knot
at the back of the throat

Photo Pink Hyacinth by Paul C. Hankamer

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nhankamer/3295369810/

Grey Sky

still no break
in the grey leaden tent of cloud
pegged to the horizon

Photograph Grey Sky by yuankuei
http://www.flickr.com/photos/please/5756350/in/photostream/

Crocuses

suddenly
a bed of crocuses
purple, like a bruise


Photo crocus on black by Swiv

http://www.flickr.com/photos/swiv/421250906/

Dehydration

“There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain…”

T S Eliot

Unexpectedly
a pressure in my head
that grows to a dull prolonged thud
that settles over my eyes
into a strong persistent drone.

Sometimes I’d wake suddenly
in the middle of the night
uncomfortably hot,
a gnawing anxiety
lying heavy on my stomach.
And the unread books
on our shelves accusing me.

I used to forget about water.

And sometimes now
I forget about silence.
My parched mind
in a desert of noise,
and crowded faces looming
out of the anvil glare of the sun.

Sometimes I yearn for disconnection.




© David Loffman

16 February 2009

Snow Melting

All across the Old Deer Park
in the grey dawn light
the scattered remains of snowmen
loom out of the frozen mist
like the ancient ruins
of a Megalithic temple.

Photograph Snow Melting by Michele Morgan

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dragonclouds/3255524246/

Still snowing

through the night suburbs
we slept on a pillow of snow
that fell soft and delicate, down

Photo Still snowing by Goth Phil
http://www.flickr.com/photos/phil_p/3245948000
/in/photostream/

Lichen on bare branches

in dawn light

the lichens shine

from bare branches

Photo: trees in forest by simonsterg

At Rhos Goch Chapel

on the black mountain
outside the windswept chapel
the soft sound of sleet
and gravel falling
on the wooden lid

Fruit and Spices

cinnamon and cloves

hot and sweet oranges

still the smell lingers

Photo Mulled Wine by jsarcadia

Epiphany

Where have you come from?

How have you travelled?

And what gifts can you bring?

Photo coldpath by simonsterg